


To Be A Monster

by MonPetitTresor



Series: Tumblr Prompts and Potential Future AU's [7]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Supernatural
Genre: Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, I'll add more tags, I'm not good at those, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, M/M, Might be more later - Freeform, Monsters, Past Torture, Sam Winchester Needs a Hug, Slow Build, awesome friendship, if I add mroe, maybe? - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-29 20:58:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15737229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonPetitTresor/pseuds/MonPetitTresor
Summary: They met when the two of them were at their lowest. Later, both would admit that it probably worked out for the best – they might not have taken the time to understand one another, or give the other a shot, if they hadn’t already been knocked down just about as far as they could go. They just so happened to be in the right place, at the right time, and just broken enough to be able to not only recognize it in the other, but understand and appreciate it as well.





	To Be A Monster

They met when the two of them were at their lowest. Later, both would admit that it probably worked out for the best – they might not have taken the time to understand one another, or give the other a shot, if they hadn’t already been knocked down just about as far as they could go. They just so happened to be in the right place, at the right time, and just broken enough to be able to not only recognize it in the other, but understand and appreciate it as well.

Sam Winchester wasn’t even sure why he was at that bar that night. It was two months since Dean had vanished, two months of try and failing to find him, over and over and over, until Sam swore he was going to come apart at the seams. Two months of searching and hoping and breaking apart, little by little, piece by piece, until he’d ended up _here_ , at this random bar in a town he couldn’t even remember the name of, staring down at his glass of beer and wondering why on earth he was here. Why he’d even bothered to get up out of bed.

He knew he wasn’t in the best frame of mind to be in public. Though Castiel might’ve taken that sliver of grace out of Sam, taking away the part of Lucifer that had stayed behind and driven Sam slowly insane, the seraph hadn’t been able to take away the damage that grace had done. He’d removed the hallucinations, yes, at least for the most part. But that still left Sam with a _millennia_ of memories rattling around in his brain. Memories of torture and pain and the kind of soul-deep-agony that he’d never even known existed.

There were good days and bad days. Lately, the bad seemed to be outweighing the good, especially since Sam had lost that drive that was pushing him on. There were no more Leviathan to fight, no sign of Dean anywhere. Nothing that might give Sam hope that he could find his brother somewhere. He was well and truly alone, and it made it hard – _so hard_. Somehow, he kept getting up, kept moving on, though he wasn’t quite sure how.

That day… that day was a bad day.

Memories had been dogging Sam from the moment he woke up from his nightmares, a scream locked in his chest and his voice stuck in his throat. Speaking was always hard for him when he got like that. It was hard to talk after spending so long denying Lucifer the satisfaction of the yes he so desperately wanted. On a good day, Sam had a hard time letting the word ‘yes’ pass his lips. On a bad day, he had a hard time getting any words to work at all.

He’d barely managed to say his order to the bartender, who had looked at him with a sad little smile and that dim light in his eyes that Sam had seen on plenty of faces before. It was a look that said that the person had seen war themselves and recognized the look of another veteran. He served Sam his drink and then respectfully left him alone.

Sam was still staring down into his glass when he felt something cold slide down his spine, and then a crackle tingled over his skin. _Power_. Someone in here had power. It was enough to snap Sam out of his stupor and bring his eyes upwards, hunter instincts taking over and forcing him to seek out the potential threat. Though Sam never mentioned his _sensitivity_ to anyone, it had saved him a time or two, and it’d only gotten stronger since his time in the Cage.

It took but a moment to find the one he was looking for. There was no doubt in Sam’s mind just where that power came from. What he hadn’t expected was to find the person it belonged to already staring at _him_.

There was nothing overtly threatening about the man that was staring at him. He was tall – that much was clear, even with him sitting down the way that he was – and was dressed in the business casual that most of the men in here seemed to be wearing. He had on a silver button up shirt, a black vest, and no tie. Black hair was pulled back into a slightly messy bun, as if he’d only absently dragged it out of his face and into the ponytail, yet it didn’t at all detract from the slightly regal posture, or the amused yet haughty look on his face. One dark eyebrow was drawn up, highlighting a pair of bright green eyes, and a smirk curved his lips.

Nothing about him cried _threat_ , and yet Sam knew instantly that he was more of a threat than many things he’d faced. The man, being, whatever he was, he didn’t carry the feel of an angel or a demon. Sam knew those intimately. No, this was something else. Something very, very different.

Sam was never quite sure why it was that he didn’t get up and walk away, or why he simply sat there when the other got up from his seat and so clearly started to make his way towards Sam. Yet sit there Sam did, only watching as the being made his way through the crowd with all the grace of a panther stalking towards its prey.

When the other reached him, Sam found that he was right, the guy was tall. Potentially close to Sam’s own height.

This close, his power was much easier to feel, and it made Sam shiver. It was like a breeze blowing across his skin. Like melted water, still slightly cold from the ice, yet slowly beginning to warm. It brushed over Sam’s skin, wrapping around him, and for some inexplicable reason, Sam _relaxed_.

“Well, well, well.” The words were drawled out low and slow, with a hint of a laugh at the edges, like the one who was speaking was privy to some joke the rest of the world didn’t quite understand. “You’re not quite who I was expecting to find here.”

Sam tilted his head, a gesture he hadn’t quite been able to kick yet, and didn’t back down. What more did he have to lose, really? “I’m pretty sure we’ve never met.”

The smirk turned into a bright, toothy grin that was all sharp edges and open threat. “Not exactly, though I’ve heard plenty about _you_ , Sam Winchester. We had a mutual friend, you and I. One who liked to borrow my name from time to time.” One long-fingered, pale hand came up, and that grin only got wider. “I am Loki.”

Whatever Sam had been expecting, it hadn’t been that. He found himself staring for just a moment before, to his own surprise, he reached up and caught the hand of the god of mischief and chaos. The instant their palms touched, power sparked between them in crackles of green and purple light, much to both their shock.

Loki’s shock quickly melted away to something more calculating. “Interesting indeed. I hadn’t heard anything about _that_.”

Slowly, almost reluctantly, Sam drew his hand back until he could once more wrap it around his glass. He debated lying. Then figured, why bother? Why try to hide something that the other could clearly sense? “I don’t exactly advertise it.”

“Intelligent choice.”

Without waiting for an invitation, Loki slid down gracefully onto the stool beside Sam’s. A gesture to the bartender, and then two fingers, had the man making his way over, already reaching out to prepare what he clearly knew Loki wanted. Sam watched it all with raised eyebrows before he shook his head. “By all means, please, have a seat,” he said sarcastically.

It earned him a bright grin. “Why thank you.”

Almost against his will, Sam felt his lips twitch up into the ghost of a smile. Far more of one than he’d given anything for months now.

The bartender finally stopped by them and laid down two glasses of a bright orange concoction that had Sam’s eyebrows climbing once more. Loki took one of the glasses and nudged the other one closer to Sam. “You clearly weren’t enjoying that atrocious drink in front of you. Perhaps something of decent flavor might be more suited. Unless, of course, you were punishing yourself with your terrible drink choice.” Hiding his smirk behind his glass, Loki rested one arm on the bar and twisted himself so that he was able to lean into Sam’s space without actually invading it. His eyes were dancing with mirth. “If that’s the case, well, there’s punishment and there’s cruelty. And that, my dear, is beyond cruel.”

One of the many lessons that had been hammered into Sam’s head his whole life – and more so after everything with Ruby – was that you never took food or drink or anything like that from a supernatural creature. Sam knew that. So he had absolutely no excuse as to why he reached out and picked the drink up. There was a brief flash of surprise in Loki’s gaze at the gesture. Then it was gone when Sam lifted the drink towards him and simply said, “To Gabriel.”

For one brief moment, the mask that Loki wore cracked, and Sam saw a hint of the grief inside. Just a small sliver of the kind of darkness that Sam knew far, far too intimately. He felt it every single day inside of himself. It was there and gone again in a flash, yet Sam knew what he’d seen. “To Gabriel,” Loki murmured, lifting his own glass.

And that – that was the start of it all. That was the moment when two very broken people came together and started up the most unlikely of friendships. That single moment in that nameless bar, sharing a drink over a fallen friend, Sam and Loki found someone who carried the same kind of darkness inside of them that they did, and who didn’t run at the sight of it. They found someone equally broken, who wouldn’t be cut by their own jagged edges. How could either of them run away?

They talked for hours that night. Sam couldn’t remember the last time he’d had such an engaging conversation. Neither brought up their personal horrors – those weren’t the kinds of things that were shared on the first night, that would come many nights later, with a lot stronger alcohol – but they got to know one another with the kind of ease of two people who were realizing that they didn’t have to hide who they really were. They didn’t have to say everything, but they didn’t have to try and cover it all up, either. They were free to just talk.

When they left the bar, Sam honestly didn’t expect to see Loki again, and he chalked the night up to a random good experience.

He hadn’t expected the trickster to show up three nights later at the diner that Sam stopped at for dinner.

Even if Sam hadn’t felt him the instant he stepped inside, it would’ve been easy to spot Loki. He looked so absolutely out of place in this kind of establishment. Not only that, but he clearly knew it, too, and wasn’t afraid of showing his disgust. The faint curl to his lip, the way he sat himself as if he was trying to touch as little surface as possible of the table in front of him. Sam had a brief moment where he couldn’t decide if he wanted to shake his head or _laugh_.

Loki looked up as Sam walked in and he clearly read Sam’s amusement in his face or his eyes or something. The mage narrowed his gaze and lifted a finger to point in a manner that was probably meant to be threatening, and only made Sam want to laugh all the more. “If you value your life, you will _not_.”

Holding his hands up in a gesture of peace and ignoring the people around them who looked surprised at the violent statement from the man who had been quietly sitting there, Sam grinned and closed the last bit of distance between them. “I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about.”

Loki snorted openly, dropping his hand back down to the table. “If you wish to lie to the God of Lies, I suggest you work harder at it, Samuel.”

“It’s Sam.” The protest came easily; he’d given it often enough their first night.

“You have a perfectly acceptable name.”

Sam slid down into the seat across from Loki. The ease that he felt there was surprising. There were very few people that Sam was truly comfortable with. There was no way he should be so at ease with Loki – who very much was not ‘people’ at all, something that only made him more dangerous and should’ve put Sam more on edge – yet he was. That ease allowed Sam to meet Loki’s gaze without shying away, and tell him: “My grandfather was named Samuel. I’m not fond of hearing it.”

“You two didn’t get along?” Loki asked curiously.

There was a short pause as Sam debated his answers. Then, with a mental shrug, he bluntly told him, “He used me for a year and was more than willing to sell my brother and I out to one of our biggest enemies to get what he wanted.” Then, because it was Loki and because he knew the guy was angling for something, Sam folded his arms on the table and leaned his weight on them, never breaking eye contact. “The last time we saw one another, I shot him.”

There was no flinch, no grimace of surprise or disgust or fear. Loki actually grinned at him as he mirrored Sam’s pose and leaned in on his arms as well. “Will you shoot _me_?”

“Would it make any difference?”

The grin Loki wore grew wider. “None whatsoever.”

Shrugging, Sam gave in to the surprising urge and let himself smile just slightly. “Then I guess I’ll have to restrain myself.”

“Oh, now.” Loki curled his lip up and shook his head. “That sounds incredibly dull.”

This time there was no way Sam could restrain himself. He chuckled, and Loki looked immensely proud of himself for getting that response.

Conversation was cut off when the waitress made her way over to them. One look told Sam all he needed to know about how this was going to go. The way she was looking at Loki made it clear she didn’t recognize him for who he was. She did, however, like what she saw, and she had no shame in showing it. The way she held herself, how she bent a little, how she leaned in towards him, all of it was a blatant sign of interest. “You ready to order, sweetheart?”

For pretty much all of Sam’s life, he’d been around someone who was considered attractive by pretty much _everyone_. He was used to watch Dean get hit on by plenty of women – and a few men – and hitting on them in return. Sitting back and watching as a diner waitress hit on his companion was pretty much par for the course.

What _wasn’t_ was the way that Loki almost completely ignored it. He didn’t even turn to look at her. Instead, he tilted his head and watched Sam, one eyebrow arched, as if silently asking ‘Well?’ Like he didn’t notice the woman beside him – unlikely – or wasn’t the least bit interested. Then again, Loki seemed to have this thing about mortals, despite the fact that he was here talking to _Sam_ , so that might’ve had something to do with it.

Either way, Sam shot the woman an apologetic look before he ordered. “Coffee, please, and a chicken Caesar salad if you have it.” Most places did. It was almost a staple on the healthy side of the menu.

The smile the lady shot him was relaxed, not tense, showing that she wasn’t offended by the brush-off she’d just clearly gotten. Instead, she shifted her weight and stood up straighter, clearly not flirting this time, and looked to Loki next “Anything for you?”

Again, that little curl to Loki’s lip, his clear disgust showing through as his eyes swept over the room. It vanished as he finally looked up at the woman. “No thank you.”

Polite, then, and not in that demeaning sort of way that Sam might’ve expected from _alien royalty_. Loki might not be all that fond of some of humanity, and its multitude of faults, but he wasn’t directly rude to someone who hadn’t earned his ire, and his behavior now and when they’d met at the bar suggested that he knew how to respect those in a service station.

Sam watched Loki carefully while the waitress walked away from them. She returned a moment later, pouring Sam a cup of coffee, and then she was gone again. Sam continued to be silent, just studying Loki’s face, and the mage studied him in turn. What he was looking for, Sam wasn’t sure, but he didn’t… none of this made sense to Sam. Their talk the other night at the bar had been one of the best times that Sam had had in a long time. He’d _enjoyed_ himself. Yet, Sam’s history with the supernatural suggested that hanging out with supernatural beings was trouble, and that his own judgment couldn’t be trusted with them.

Life had taught Sam hard lessons. One of which was that nothing – not even friendship – came free.

“What do you want with me?” Sam asked him bluntly.

His question didn’t seem to throw the other off. Loki simply arched an eyebrow at him again. “Perhaps I was simply bored.”

“No.” As if he was going to be that stupid. Sam shook his head, but he didn’t break his eyes away from Loki. Not completely. “I mean, maybe that’s part of it. But that’s not all of it. Maybe running into me in the bar was just a random fluke, but you stuck around for hours. Now you’re here, and I _know_ this wasn’t random. There’s no way in hell you’d be caught dead in a place like this. The disgust on your face makes that pretty clear. Which tells me you stopped in here knowing I was going to be coming through. So, I’ll ask again – what do you want with me?”

It was kind of impressive when Loki didn’t even bat an eye at Sam’s accusations. He sat there calmly and listened to everything Sam had to say. Only when he was done did the mage react. Even then, it was to smirk at him. “Your race amuses me,” Loki said, voice low and dry. “You label me the God of Chaos and Mischief, the God of Lies, and yet you think asking blunt questions will get you the truth?”

“I shared a body with the Father of Lies. I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to work through yours.”

The words were a bit of a test – one that Sam wasn’t sure if Loki passed or failed. He wasn’t quite sure which reaction he wanted the mage to have. Either way, the fact that Loki didn’t flinch over those words, that he didn’t react in any way at all – not even in a power flare – made it pretty clear that he knew. He knew who Sam was, and he knew some of what happened. Enough, at least, to know that Sam had housed Lucifer.

The thought that maybe he hadn’t _heard_ about it, that maybe he’d _seen_ something on Sam, some sign of Lucifer left behind in the jagged tears of his very soul, was a thought that the hunter didn’t want to have.

Their conversation was cut off once more when the waitress brought Sam’s food to him. The two waited patiently, and Sam made sure to thank her before she left.

It wasn’t until Sam was adding the dressing to his salad that Loki finally spoke up again. When he did, there was a surprising lack of mockery in his voice. “I didn’t plan to run into you or anyone inside that bar. My wish was to simply find some time alone. I’ll admit, however, that I recognized you. I make it a point to know any potential threats I might encounter in my travels, and you and your brother are quite high on that list for Midgard.”

“You know more than just that.” It wasn’t a question.

Loki dipped his head in acknowledgement. “Indeed.” A calculating light took over those bright green eyes and his gaze narrowed ever so slightly on Sam. It was the only warning before he flung out his next words, and sharp and dangerous as any knife he carried. “The Boy King. The Abomination. The one who set Lucifer free. A monster, according to plenty out there.”

Each word made Sam flinch. He felt the sharp cut of them, tiny little nicks to add to an already damaged soul, yet he didn’t protest them. Why bother? They were true.

Only, Loki didn’t stop there. He continued on, and his words gentled once more, carrying an edge of what sounded like _wonder_. “You are the boy who damned the world – and the one who gave everything to save it. You were destined to be a monster, prophesized from long before you were born, and you fell down that path for a while. Yet somehow, you took that destiny and made it your own. You made yourself into a monster, and in the end, you saved us all. Not just this realm, but the realms beyond that would’ve fallen to his touch. Knowing all that, I profess, I’m… curious.”

Sam fought to hold back his flinch. “About why I did it?” That seemed the most logical answer.

Loki shook his head, surprising Sam. “No.” Pausing for a moment, there was a brief flicker of uncertainty, a hint of something dark and _shattered_ deep down inside, and Loki’s magic rolled uneasily. Then it was all lost in the intensity of the gaze that he fixed right on Sam. “ _How_.”

That one word was all it took for Sam to understand. Loki wasn’t asking him how he’d survived Lucifer, or how he’d gotten back control, or any of the other multitude of questions someone in the hunting community might ask – at least, if they ever got past the _why_ , or didn’t simply kill him on sight. No, Loki was asking him something much more important.

What Sam knew from his studies, what he’d gathered from all the lore, gave him a hint of what life must’ve been like for Loki. The information from Bobby’s SHIELD contacts had only added to it when they’d asked during the invasion. Sam’s knowledge of Loki’s life showed far too much of a parallel between the two of them. He saw the prince destined to be a monster – born of a race of monsters, adopted into a new family with the truth hidden away, raised up in a world where he was always different. Always wrong. Raised to believe himself a _freak_ – and then, later, to discover that he was prophesized to bring the end of the world, to bring Ragnarok, if the myths were right.

That knowledge had Sam viewing Loki’s question different than other’s might. In Sam’s eyes, Loki was asking him the only question that was important to him – how had Sam gone from the monster he’d been told he’d be, from being said to be the one responsible for breaking the world, to _saving_ it instead? How had he circumvented what ‘destiny’ had ordained for him?

In that question, Sam heard the longing, the need to be _more_ than what everyone said he was going to be. The need to prove that, monster though he may be, it didn’t make him bad. It didn’t make him _wrong_. That was a feeling Sam knew far too well.

“I almost didn’t,” Sam admitted. He’d never come out and said those words to anyone before. Staring down at his salad, he poked at it, stirring the leaves this way and that. “Honestly? If it’d been just me… I don’t… I don’t think I could’ve. I would’ve tried. I mean, I _had_ to. But, if it wasn’t for everyone else around me, if it wasn’t for Dean, I don’t think I would’ve done it. I just… I couldn’t let him hurt them. I couldn’t let them suffer for my mistakes. It was my fault.” Sam shrugged one shoulder. “They shouldn’t have had to suffer for it.”

The table fell quiet once more. Sam’s words hung heavy between them. The hunter didn’t dare look up, not at first. Not until he heard Loki murmur, “You used an anchor.”

Sam didn’t dismiss it outright. In a way, Loki wasn’t wrong. “I guess you could say that.”

“And now, with your anchor gone?” Loki was watching him carefully, reading every emotion that passed over Sam’s face, every hint that might lead him to the answers he was so clearly seeking.

Unfortunately, Sam didn’t have the answer for him. He didn’t even have the answers for himself. “I don’t know.”

Instead of being bothered by Sam’s words, Loki appeared to take them in and think about them. Sam swore he could practically see the mage examining them from every angle before adding it to the puzzle. Before Sam could say anything, Loki’s expression cleared, and he suddenly sat back in his seat. A mug of something steaming appeared in his hands. Crossing one leg over the other, and somehow managing to make it look like he was lounging on a throne, Loki seemingly settled himself in, looking far more relaxed than he had since Sam arrived.

Sam felt a small smile tug at his lips. “That’s it?”

“For now,” Loki demurred. That mischievous light was entering his eyes again, and he was starting to smile now, too. “I reserve the right for more questions at a later date.”

“I reserve the right not to answer them.”

“Oh, good. That makes it far more interesting.”

Shaking his head, Sam did the only thing he could do, and he laughed.

* * *

That started the strangest friendship that Sam had ever been a part of. Loki popped in and out whenever he wanted. Even after Sam started to try and settle in with Amelia, when he tried to make a life away from hunting, Loki still dropped in on him. Not once did Sam think of trying to stop him, either. If anything, he found himself looking forward to the nights that Loki came by. In those moments Sam was free to just be himself without any of the walls that needed to be put up around everyone else. With Loki, it wasn’t necessary, and Sam grew to relish those moments of freedom.

When the trickster got his cell phone number – and how Goddamn hilarious was it to see that Loki of all beings had a _Starkphone_ – they moved up to texting one another now and again, even calling. Sam had a blast teasing Loki about the fact that he actually _text_. While Loki wasn’t ignorant of human ways, not by far, there was still something amusing about even the idea of him texting.

Maybe it had something to do with the regal air that clung to just about everything Loki did. He was a prince, had been raised to be one, and it showed in his speech and his bearing and pretty much everything he did. Yet… he’d curl up on the couch in Sam’s room – after once more mocking it for its poor quality – and he’d stretch himself out, one leg up on the couch and the other lazily flopped off to the side, his whole body slouched down so that his head could rest on the armrest. Any signs of the uptight prince were gone and Sam knew he was getting a glimpse of just _Loki_.

Sam loved that far more than he probably should have.

Their friendship had become something that Sam cherished. Talking with the trickster was often a verbal sparring match, with sharp sarcasm and dry humor, and a mocking edge that Sam knew better than to take seriously, but it was _fun_. Loki didn’t censor himself or treat Sam like one wrong word was going to break him. Sure, he poked at Sam for being a ‘ridiculous mortal’ or some such thing, but it was with genuine humor and that little smile playing around his lips that said he didn’t mind anywhere near as much as he pretended to.

Loki became one of the most important people in Sam’s life. He was the one that Sam messaged in the middle of the night when he needed a distraction from his nightmares. He was the one that Sam thought of when something good happened. And he was the one that Sam called when Dean came back – when the small world that Sam had built for himself got tipped over on its head.

That phone call had helped to ease some of the ache that had built up around Sam’s heart. Hearing Loki mutter something that sounded like a Norse swear word or two, followed almost instantly by “ _Do you need me there_?” was enough to have Sam relaxing in a way he hadn’t been sure he’d be able to. Loki had proven more than once that he was fiercely protective of the people he considered his. Sam just hadn’t realized how much he’d fallen into that category.

“No, no, it’s okay. I’m okay.” The words didn’t feel like a lie, either. Sam honestly felt okay in that moment, seated on the back of his brother’s car and staring up at the stars while talking on his phone. Sam found he was actually able to smile a little. “Besides, I should probably keep the two of you apart for now.”

“ _Oooh, am I to become your dirty little secret, Samuel? The monster your brother can’t know about?_ ”

Anyone else using the word ‘monster’ around them was asking to be hurt. Badly. But what stung from other people carried a different note when it came from them. Sam heard the teasing in those words, and he grinned. “Shut up. Maybe I just don’t want to watch you two puff up and posture at each other.” He paused to chuckle and then shook his head. “Seriously, though. Dean’s not… there’s a lot going on right now, and he’s… it’s rough. I want to make sure he’ll actually listen to me before I try introducing the two of you.”

“ _I’m in no rush_ ,” Loki said easily, not sounding the least bit bothered by this. When Sam asked him about it, the mage laughed. “ _I already have one pet mortal. What need do I have for another?_ ”

Loki had only laughed harder when Sam started to sputter out a protest at being anyone’s _pet_.


End file.
